


The Usual Endearment

by Sparcina



Series: How Frostiron Could Have Started [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood play (somehow), Bossy Loki, Dirty Talk, Grab some popcorn and enjoy the show, Healing, Loki Feels, Loki-centric, M/M, Naive Tony, Oblivious Tony Stark, Possessive Loki, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, silly dates, steve makes pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: "Fuck you, Stark." Loki takes a liking to those words. Then the words become something more.





	

“Fuck you, Stark.”

The order was on Loki’s lips more and more often. Had the coffee machine broken down? Those three words echoed in the kitchen. Had Tony, once again, manipulated Loki into attending one of their ‘Movie Nights’ when it was Clint’s turn to select the main entertainment?

“Fuck you, Stark!”

Had Tony, in the Suit, deliberately attacked the monster of the day on his own, right after having been told to stay the hell put?

“FUCK YOU, STARK!!!”

There were different rings to it, as if the words changed meaning in the god’s mind. It could sound aggressive in the morning, facetious in the evening. “Fuck you, Stark” was as much an invitation to get out of the god’s way as it was a command to kneel and explain. Loki mastered English with an ease that would have made a linguist envious, but he stuck to this formula, this verb, pronoun and surname combination as if it was the _crème de la crème_ of the English language.  

Natasha and Clint had frequently used that expression before Loki had come to live with them in the Tower. Black Widow always said that ‘Fuck you, Tony,” in a silky, chilly tone that made everyone in hearing range want to climb up the wall for protection. Hawkeye’s use of those words was always accompanied by a joyful, ferocious tap on the shoulder that sent the inventor a good three feet from his current position.

So it had become a traditional way of greeting. And then it had stopped being used, because Loki had taken a liking to the words, and all the Avengers stayed clear of whatever pleased Loki. The God of Mischief may be living with them now, may even fight alongside his former enemies, but his murderous temper, and his territorial strike, drew invisible limits everywhere.

*

Territorial was an understatement where Loki was concerned. Everything that was his was _his_ , no questions asked. Nobody ever went into his room, not even Thor, and that was no meager feat. His weapons were touched by his fingers, and his only.

Once, Clint had made the mistake to lay the first millimeter of his pinkie on a blue orb lying inconspicuously on the kitchen counter.   

He had not done it again. For a while after that, he hadn’t dared touch anything that he hadn’t previously touched, smelled and tasted, and it had taken Loki’s newest fixation to appease him.

Namely, Loki’s liking of the words ‘Fuck you, Tony”.

But it was never as simple as that.

*

Loki’s frequent use of the expression stemmed from two more basic appreciations.

First, he liked to fuck. Tony had gotten it after numerous evenings in the god’s company. A ‘good’ Loki was still a mischievous, proud, insufferable Loki, and so Tony had had to listen to hours of the god’s exploits in bed. According to Loki, he had ‘graced’ not less than a couple of thousands beings, mostly Asgardians, but some humans, too, with his tantalizing touch. He had fucked, both as a man and a woman, not less than up to six persons at a time.

Tony had not other choice but to review his definition of playboy.

Loki enjoyed having an audience, especially if that audience consisted of Tony, and Tony alone. More often than not, the two of them reunited in the living room of the common floor after a battle with a drink and spoke at length.

It wasn’t always a monologue on Loki’s part. After all, in ‘Fuck you, Stark’, there was the last word to consider, too. And Loki might be enjoying the bed a little too much, he was also quite taken with the mortal.

Tony could only understand the attraction. Not that if was anything more than an intellectual one, of course. The two of them were scientists in their own way. They shared what they knew of science and magic, argued for hours at a time over details of the world’s gears. Sometimes, their discussion led them to Tony’s lab, where experiences could be performed to support one side of an argument.

Loki did have beautiful eyes when spinning all that green energy. Magic. He had always been intriguing, even back when he had been mostly evil, and Tony had always enjoyed a good fairy tale.

*

The thing was, Loki never seemed to connect the dots between ‘fuck’ and ‘Stark’.

And Tony didn’t encourage him in that direction either. He brought home date after date, male and female alike, never twice the same. If anyone noticed those dates progressively became strictly slim, tall men with black hair and green eyes, nobody commented, not even Clint.

Loki was flashy with his dates, too. He usually went back to their place instead of bringing them back to the Tower.

Right until the point he didn’t. By then, all his dates were short, lean men with a goatee and a doctorate in physics.

Natasha still didn’t point out the obvious. Steve might be the only one who didn’t get the eerie sublimation of Tony and Loki’s respective interests, even if he saw every one of them, being assigned to breakfast duties most of the time.

Loki and Tony ignored each other when their dates were around. And if Loki’s ‘Fuck you, Stark’, sounded more ominous, venomous than usual on those mornings, Steve only prepared more pancakes, and made sure the god had his own maple syrup bottle.

*

When the dots connected, it caused fireworks.

It happened a good two years after Loki’s joining the Avengers. Natasha would say afterwards that they could have stopped beating around the bush twenty months before. Clint would disappear into his room squealing and shooting arrows at random. Steve would turn red and hide between the kitchen counter under the pretense of preparing pancakes. 

They had just come back from a battle against Thanos. They had fought that one before, but never with so much damage on their side. New York had gone from a touristic venue to a post-apocalyptic setting that was sure to attract Hollywood’s crews of Sci-Fi movies for the next year.

No Avenger had died that day. They were nevertheless hurting, tired, limping. All of them except Loki, who had been shielded by a fierce Iron Man whose Suit had sustained several blasts of otherworldly power.

“I told you to stay put!” Loki howled as he sent his cape flying though the room.

“When you were going to throw yourself at him?!” Tony screamed in turn. His face was raw with burnt marks, bleeding scratches and impressive bruises. He pushed Loki’s hand away, but he _did_ need help to get out of the malfunctioning Suit.

Loki was not so gentle as he helped him out of the dented metal. He was even less so when he sent him tumbling down on the couch. A murderous green glare sent the rest of the Avengers on their way.

Tony was breathing heavily, eyes blazing with fury. Loki towered over him, one booted foot on the sofa between Tony’s thighs. Even without his helmet, he made for an impressive figure, black hair wild and cutting cheekbones highlighting eyes that tried to reduce Tony to dust. He leaned forwards, teeth bared, and snarled:

“You could have gotten yourself killed, you idiot.”

The booted foot slid forwards, settling against Tony’s groin. The air had gone so still Tony forgot to breathe. Loki was closer then he had ever been, deliriously handsome in those torn leather clothes, his eyes afire with murderous intents.

 “Well, I didn’t die, Princess, so why are you complaining? Just…” He struggled for words. He couldn’t concentrate very well when Loki kept glaring at him like that. “Why don’t you go get laid? You sure keep saying that it makes you feel better-”

“Fuck you, Stark!”

Before Tony could come up with a suitable reply, Loki held him by the neck, silencing him effectively. His lips were bare inches from his own mouth. Loki was panting, cheeks reddening, looking wearier than he had been during the whole fight outside. The booted foot against him drew back and forth once, twice. Tony wasn’t sure it was conscious on Loki’s part, but it still resulted in him hardening. Moaning. He wanted to fault the battle, but he knew if was not that simple.

It never was.

“What if I don’t want to leave the tower to get laid?” Loki crooned over his lips, one hand resting on Tony’s shoulder. “What if I want to fuck you, Stark? You’re…”

He trailed that hand down Tony’s front, grinning as the other man shivered.

“…closer…”

He rubbed his nose against an ear, bit down the shell of it, creating goosebumps all over that tantalizing close body. His hand disappeared under the ripped shirt.

“… and amenable…”

Tony had no warning as Loki suddenly straddled him and kissed him roughly. Their clothes disappeared, bringing their naked, hard cocks, together. Tony rose a hand–to push Loki away or palm himself, he wasn’t sure yet–, but Loki was faster. The god pinned him to the sofa, plundering his mouth as a man driven mad with thirst, or lust, and took hold of the leaking dicks nestled between them.

He stroked them as harshly as he treated Tony’s mouth. Pain mingled with pleasure until it became just another shade of delight. Tony arched his back, reduced to a wanton mess by that god who mounted him savagely, planted kisses like bruises all over his shoulders and neck. The first finger in his ass had him cry out.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t let any of those _dates_ fuck you, Stark,” Loki breathed in his ear. “I could sense their semen in you. Every. Single. Time.”

“Fuck!”

Loki added a second finger without waiting for Tony to adjust. The third really hurt. Loki lapped at the blood trickling down Tony’s chest. Wounds from the battle, reopened by the frantic beating of his heart. Seeing Loki’s lips tainted with his blood, that tongue licking at it, savoring it, sang in time with the fierce rhythm of those long, bony fingers in his ass. It was as if the god drank his very life and offered a taste of his in return.

He could begin to see the appeal of blood play.

"Good," Loki gasped, and it sounded almost pained, as if fucking Tony with his fingers was ravishing him in turn. "You respond so beautifully." He rubbed hard at Tony's prostate, picking up speed as a shout slipped through the man's lips. The whispering words in Tony's ears were music, of a kind no language on Earth could have attempted do describe. "Come now. For  _me._ "

"Fuck!"

Tony climaxed with four of Loki’s fingers in his mouth. Without waiting for him to catch his breath, Loki turned him on his front knelt above him, his cock rubbing between Tony's buttocks as he leaned to kiss his spine. Slowly, almost gently, he wound his arms around Tony's torso as he eased his cock inside in. Tony’s cock twitched in interest.

Loki began to thrust without a word. His hands caressed his chest, spreading the blood all over him with the same frenzy he pounded into his ass. The rhythm felt urgent, uncontrolled... so unlike Loki, and yet, Tony couldn't imagine their fucking, their _lovemaking_ , playing out any differently. They had both wanted a long time for this, he realized. There was too much desperation, too much violence in the act for it to be otherwise.

"Yes," he gasped, lifting his hips to meet Loki's thrusts. " _Yes_!"

Blood covered Loki's hands like gloves. The god panted behind him, his palms pressing inwards as if to reach inside and stroke more than skin. Then his thrusts turned erratic, deeper. Tony's head bounced on the sofa as Loki's self-control shattered some more. God, he would be bruised on the morning. He'd never been handled so roughly in bed, and he absolutely loved every single of it. 

Loki sank his nails under his nipples as he finally let go. A curse left his mouth, in a tongue Tony didn't recognize. Tony’s eyes rolled in their sockets, and even if he was still only half-hard, utterly spent, he imagined his cock still leaked, sympathetic to the semen flooding into his ass. It was warm, comforting, just as the weight of Loki's body. 

They stayed that way for a while. Then Loki turned him over and licked his wounds, gently. They healed one after the other with green sparks of magic.

“Will you be sore tomorrow?” the god asked, pupils still blown with lust.

Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. Loki smiled and placed his lips on Tony’s brow.

“Good.” He tucked Tony into bed. “There are three things you’d better remember, Tony Stark.”

Tony was already drifting into sleep. He struggled to stay awake, to hear that voice a little longer.

Loki cupped his cheek. “Don’t ever try to sacrifice yourself for me again. I am a god, you are not.”

The kiss was light, a laugh wrapped in it.

“Make sure that coffee machine works on the morrow. And I want the first cup.”

Loki’s thumb pressed down his bottom lip. The room was too dark for him to see, but Tony could swear Loki was smiling one of his savage smiles. He shivered.

“Most importantly, Anthony… Don’t _ever_ let anyone else fuck you. Your ass belongs to me, now.”

Tony wasn’t certain if he managed to voice his question or merely thought it, but Loki left the room laughing warmly. He still smelled that spicy, exotic musk of his as he fell into the soothing abyss of dreams.


End file.
